The Closed Door
by TheCrazyViolst
Summary: Paul finds the door to John's bedroom closed and worries endlessly as to why that is. Cute, fluffly McLennon one-shot. Beatles/ATU


Paul stopped at John's closed door and raised his hand to knock. It was shut, which either meant he was in need of privacy or really, really pissed. But regardless of either explanation, Paul knew he'd enter the bedroom eventually. Hesitantly, he rapped his knuckles against the wood of the door twice.

"Yes?" John's voice called from the other side. He sounded tired and sleepy, perhaps he had been sleeping? Maybe that was why the door was shut.

Paul cleared his throat and said, "It's me."

"Paulie!" John chuckled. "Come in, my lad."

The handle of the door felt cold against Paul's flushed and sweaty hand. He apprehensively pushed it open slowly, revealing the usual messy state of John's bedroom. Papers were strewn here and there, many tacked to the walls and hanging from hooks, clothes littered the floor around the closet, the record collection stacked into piles around the player and the guitar resting against John's desk chair. The boy himself lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, his thick rimmed glasses resting on his nose. His left leg dangled off the side lazily while his arms were extended to his sides.

Paul walked over and sat on the edge of the bed apprehensively, seeing as though something was up or the door wouldn't have been closed. "Hey."

John propped himself up on his elbows and smiled. "Hello, love. Do I get a kiss?"

"Nope," Paul replied, standing up.

John raised his eyebrows and pressed his lips into a thin, narrow line. "Am I in trouble?"

"Nope," Paul repeated. He nonchalantly closed the door and locked it, which only made more possible explanations come to mind about its earlier state, and then flipped the record player on. Elvis' smooth voice filled the silence that had fallen and helped break the rapidly forming tension. Paul turned the dial up a few notches and drowned out the background noises, even the thumping of his heart.

The gears began to turn in John's mind and everything snapped into place. This wasn't their usual routine, since they seldom were home at the same time as Mimi, but Paul was always thinking. "I see, you clever son of a bitch."

Paul smirked and stretched out on the bed next to John. "Thanks."

"Can I get my kiss now?" John asked, once again propping himself up on his elbows. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and puckered his lips like a fish. Paul laughed and pushed John's face away.

John gasped and clutched his heart in mock-hurt. "What has Johnny done to his wittle Paulie?"

"Nothing," Paul assured his boyfriend, rolling onto his side to face him.

John did the same and pressed their foreheads together. "Why won't you kiss me?"

"I dunno," Paul shrugged, staring into John's eyes intently. He reached out and stroked the lad's cheek tenderly with the back of his hand. It was scratchy to the touch, like he hadn't shaved in a few days, but soft and plush at the same time.

John took Paul's hand from his face and kissed his fingers one at a time. "Please?"

"You just did kiss me," Paul pointed out. He still wasn't sure why the door had been closed to John's bedroom and it baffled him to the ends of the earth. John's door was always open, it was so normal for it to be wide open…

"Yeah, but it was a one-sided kiss," John retorted. He fished around for Paul's hand, which he clasped firmly once found. Paul shook him off almost immediately. "I want to feel your lips on mine, or other parts of my body for that matter."

"Well, you'll have to deal," Paul replied. He smiled devilishly at his boyfriend, who groaned and rolled over onto his back. Paul drummed his fingers on the boy's slightly pudgy stomach. "I'm just not in the mood."

John snorted loudly then ran his fingers through his hair. "Not 'in the mood', eh?"

"Nope."

"Will you be 'in the mood' anytime soon? 'Cause I'm getting a little deprived over here," John dramatically stated. He nudged Paul's socked foot with his own.

"I dunno," Paul replied, starting to get frustrated with John. He needed to know why the damn door was shut! It was never shut! "You'll live."

John groaned into his palms and kicked his feet against the mattress. "I'm lying in bed with you, and yet I can't touch you? What kind of a sick joke is this?"

"I dunno," Paul said again, being like a robot of sorts. "Why was the door closed?"

"Because I was getting dressed and I didn't want Mimi to walk in, you idiot!" John spat, very annoyed at Paul. "Is this why you're mad at me? Because the bloody door was closed?"

Paul shrugged and fished for John's hand. "I dunno."

"Would you quit saying that?" John requested. He squeezed Paul's hand once, though.

"Possibly," Paul chuckled while scooting closer to John slowly.

"Oh thank the Lord," John sighed as he let go of Paul's hand and tried to rest his arm around the lad's shoulders.

Paul lifted his head then placed it gently on John's chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," John said, pulling Paul close to him.

"You know what?" Paul asked. He placed his left arm across John's stomach then looped his finger through the belt loop on his trousers.

"What?" John responded as he brushed some hair from Paul's forehead.

Paul looked up at John and smiled before saying, "I love you."

John chuckled. "I love you, too," he purred. He lightly touched his lips to Paul's in a sweet kiss.


End file.
